


Dazed and Confused

by BrightYellowBumblebee



Series: Somebody to Love [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26894176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightYellowBumblebee/pseuds/BrightYellowBumblebee
Summary: The origin storyEdit: Look ma!  I made a series!
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Somebody to Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962157
Comments: 36
Kudos: 246





	Dazed and Confused

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't expecting such an overwhelming response to my little ficlet, so thank you all.
> 
> I'm probably not going to have an overarching story but, when the bunny bites, I'll upload little ficlets within the same universe.
> 
> I try to steer clear of writing medical stuff because it hits too close to home.

Catra was going to _shoot_ whoever was responsible for this!

She’d pulled an epic week so far. Monday had started with a lecture at seven in the morning on cell biology which had resulted in her drifting off midway through and slamming her head on the wooden bench of the lecture theatre. She’d managed to draw all attention to her, enduring the lecturer’s glare as she rubbed her reddened forehead. Tuesday, she was confined to the dissection lab, watching dispassionately as three of her fellow students gave them a bad reputation and ran from the room, faces green. 

Wednesday was marred with clinical work, her feet crammed into uncomfortable shoes and a false smile plastered on her face. Thursday, she’d gotten into a blazing row with her floormate because someone was using her almond milk and she wasn’t standing for it any longer. She’d dissolved a sachet of senna in to her milk and waited, unleashing her wrath on her unsuspecting floormate as they were curled over on the toilet, bowels cramping. 

Friday was equally horrendous, the highlight being a surprise group project with three other people. As a rule, she hated group projects; working with others was not her strong point and she had some _minor_ trust issues when it came to giving up her control so her mood was blacker than her nails when she retuned to her dorm that evening. 

Back to her ongoing nightmare.

All week, she’d had to evacuate her room when someone had managed to set off the fire alarm at five in the morning. Every day. She didn’t know who it was but she was going to kill them, slowly and painfully. Her schedule was so intense that she was already sleep deprived and, adding on the two hours lost per day because of the moron in her dorm? She was homicidal by the time the alarm went off again on Saturday morning. 

Her heterochromic eyes snapped open to the blaring of the fire alarm, the shrill noise piercing her ears. Her messy room was smothered in flashing red as the alarm resonated, casting off the pile of clothes on her desk chair and messy pile of textbooks. And her immaculately organised makeup counter. 

She glanced over to her phone, checking the time with a growing sense of dread. Four-fifty in the morning. On a Saturday. She was going to _murder_ someone for this!

She shuffled to her clothing pile and she sorted through them to find something to wear. Throwing on a pair of leggings and her medical school hoodie, she scraped her hair into a messy tail and hopped awkwardly on one foot as she shoved on her trainers, losing balance and knocking over a pile of printouts from her anatomy sessions. 

Dammit!

She grabbed her phone and a packet of gum and legged it out of her room, joining the mass of students bumbling down the stairs. She glanced across to her neighbours, their faces as tired and rage-filled as hers and she mentally commiserated with them. At least they were united in their hatred for the _idiot_ who had set off the fire alarm, for the sixth morning in a row. 

University students were rarely united on one issue. Dorm housing costs were judged too high and the student bar should be open and tabbed all the time. These were two things that were unanimously agreed by all students but other issues were always a point of contention. Which society should get the rec room and which would be relegated to the dingy ante-room, next to the cleaning cupboard: point of contention. Which floor got priority at the washing machines on weekends: point of contention. Which dorm got priority in the canteen (it was never Fright Tower): point of contention. 

This Catra could see, would be one of the few points of agreement: hatred of the person inadvertently setting off the fire alarm every morning. 

She hoped it was inadvertant because, if this was deliberate, she was going to end up in front of the Dean. Again. 

Breaching the doors to the Fright Tower, her dormitory, she was met with a blast of frigid air and a spray of water to her face. Great. Even worse. It was cold and raining; she hated the rain with strength that made others question her sanity. In the darkness of pre-dawn, she shivered intensely, hands burrowing into her hoodie as she crowded close to the awning of the adjacent building in a vain attempt to stay dry with everyone else. 

She ended up almost stepping on the heels of the blonde woman next to her, more focussed on the stream of water threatening to travel down her nape than the sight in front of her. She took a step forward to try and dodge the rain when she bumped into someone’s shoulder. 

“Watch it,” she muttered, eyes still focussed on the deluge when she heard a snort next to her. Glancing over, she saw a blonde woman, slightly taller than her, with her hair in a sweaty ponytail, dressed in exercise gear. She’d clearly returned from a run when the alarm went off. 

Crazy woman.

“You bumped into me,” the blonde said, her lips curling into a smirk at the edges. Catra’s eyes narrowed dangerously, burning the blonde with venom as she almost hissed at her. She was distracted by the glimmer of mischief in the blonde’s blue eyes and how they looked enchanting. Catra, who was frosty to people at the best of times, and this certainly didn’t rank as a good time, melted in their view, turning into a puddle of warm feelings. Blue eyes were set in a pale face, her fringe falling from its clip to obscure them slightly. Behind pink lips was a white smile that would make models jealous and, under her leggings and shirt was a body that would make athletes weep. 

In that instant, Catra decided that she didn’t mind the rain so much if she could watch it trail down the blonde’s biceps like that and if it brightened the blonde’s eyes like that. She could almost name the individual muscle fibres in her deltoids and was entranced, watching the stream of water travel from sternocleidomastoid, over the edge of her pectorals and into the groove between deltoid and biceps. 

‘Dear Santa. I know I’ve been naughty: I broke the printer in the library, I lied on my personal statement and obviously, managed to make Octavia back up the plumbing after she stole my milk, but _thank you_ for this magnificent sight before me. I promise I’ll be good from now on.’

“Whatever,” Catra mumbled eventually, pulling her eyes away from the blonde, who seemed equally captivated by Catra. Or maybe that was just her trying to convince herself that there was something happening here.

“I mean, it’s not a problem,” the blonde responded, smiling easily and freely, her eyes sparkling at Catra. 

“It wouldn’t be an issue at all if someone hadn’t set off the fire alarm!” she hissed, trying desperately to claw her inherent rage back up. Looking at the woman before her, Catra.exe had crashed and it seemed to be taking some time to reboot. Because she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blonde, she caught the exact moment that she began to flush. It was a curious thing, redness creeping up her chest and neck to suffuse her cheeks, turning her pale skin a brilliant crimson. Catra couldn’t help but wonder if she’d turn the same colour whilst doing something else as well. There was no reason why she’d be flushing: she hadn’t said anything suggestive, hadn’t insulted her and the blonde was fully clothed, which was more than she could say for Grizzlor who was in his underwear and yes, he apparently was that hairy all over (not looking, not looking, not looking).

Hang on a minute…

“It was you!” she yelled, pointing a painted finger at the blonde, who was now tomato red and holding her hands up in supplication. She was trying to hush her down but Catra was now filled with righteous fury, as opposed to her sapphic want from earlier. 

She was the reason Catra hadn’t slept all week? This stupid (gorgeous), idiotic (gorgeous), moronic (gorgeous) blonde in front of her was the reason she had to leave her bed at five every day this week? 

(No, Catra.exe, do not forgive her because of her stupidly gorgeous trapezius muscles! That was no excuse for her inhuman wake up times!)

She devolved from shouting at the blonde to an inarticulate yell of fury and the blonde was glancing left and right with embarrassed fear. Embarrassed because Catra was just screaming at herself now and fear because she hadn’t been quiet about her discovery and students could be terrifying when sleep deprived.

With a flurry of movement, the blonde rushed forwards to cover Catra’s mouth and stop her yelling, leading to them both being pushing out from under the awning and into the rain. Immediately, Catra’s hackles raised as her hair was flattened by the now heavy downpour of rain. She was soaked through instantly and could feel her already razor thin patience eroding with each raindrop. For her part, the blonde looked at her hands in a kind of dazed wonder, as though she couldn’t believe she’d done that and then looked back to Catra. 

Catra had seen people blank their thoughts often; she’d had the glorious pleasure of seeing one of her classmates stammer in front of their most irritable professor which led to an inspiring tirade she wished she’d committed to memory. She’d blanked herself often enough, her thoughts screeching to a stop but this was the first time she’d seen it happen so obviously. The blonde was staring at her, eyes wide and her mouth had dropped open like a gaping fish. She seemed to forget how to blink, her blue gaze penetrating and it made a heat rise in Catra’s cheeks at the intensity. 

Catra could feel her hoodie getting soaked and plastered to her body, her leggings already fairly form fitting, and her hair, usually a wild mess was now contouring her décolletage and she knew what was happening.

The blonde was just as much of a mess as she was and Blondie.exe had blue screened. 

Part of Catra was really flattered (a lot of her was really flattered). She knew she was attractive but she had a malignant pride to go alongside it and she rarely got open praise or appreciation. So, to be openly admired was….nice. 

The other part of her was cranky. And soaked. 

“Erm, I didn’t mean to do that,” the blonde stammered, her hands flapping like useless wings as she continued to stare into Catra’s blackened soul with her unblinking eyes. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Catra snorted with derision. “You panicked, that’s why,” she said, thoroughly drenched and thoroughly done with the day. There was a shuffling behind them as the fire alarm finally stopped and the sleep deprived mass of students surged for the dorm. Catra took a step forward, intending on getting lost in the crowd, but the blonde reached forwards and took her hand.

Her palm is warm, Catra thought distantly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you all wet,” she said glumly and Catra mentally stumbled. 

‘Calm down,’ she thought, ‘she doesn’t mean it in that way! Get yourself under control, you useless lesbian!’

“Whatever,” is what she said aloud, grateful beyond belief that she wasn’t proposing marriage or sacrifice to the blonde _still holding her hand_. 

Around them, the flow of students continued, fluxing into the dorm whilst they were standing still, hands connected in the rain. Part of Catra desperately wanted to join them and get back inside: warm and dry and, ideally, asleep. 

The other part never wanted the moment to end. 

Apparently, the blonde felt something similar. “I could get you a towel or something?” she offered, thumb dancing patterns over the back of Catra’s hand and, in the back of her mind, all she could do was name the bones of the wrist. She nodded in agreement and they started to shuffle back inside with the other students. They crowded into the atrium, shaking their heads as the students around them began to break the morning silence, a background murmur rising to an uncomfortable whisper. 

“Wait,” she said, pulling the blonde to a stop and her ponytailed head looked back to her in confusion. “I don’t even know your name yet, fire alarm fiend.”

With her eyes sparkling with mischief at the nickname and a grin breaking on to her lips, the blonde muttered “Adora”. They started back up again, Catra trailing behind her as she mulled over the name. Adora, it was such a pretty name. 

It was the same name as the princess of Etheria.

Who’d be about the same age.

Who was going to university this year but which one was hushed up.

Wait a minute. 

Her thoughts screeching to a stop at the same speed as her feet, they drew to a halt again, causing the flow of students to continue around them and a few to mutter angrily. They received a few glares at the obstruction and she threw a venomous glare back in return. She was far too tired and far to decaffeinated to school her glare into something less deadly and it pleased her that she managed to make a few of the victims shiver visibly. 

“Wait, you’re Prin-“ she started to yell, but was quickly met by a hand over her mouth again, a parody of earlier. Adora, _Princess Adora_ , had a frenzied, panicked look in her eyes, seeming more frantic at this than her potential reveal as the fire alarm fiend. With darting eyes, she hushed Catra again and put a finger to her lips.

“Please be quiet!” Adora pleaded , leaning close. She smelled of jasmine and Catra could feel her brain stupefying with every inhale of her flowery-scent. “Not here!” 

Dumbly, and because no matter how much she tried, she would always be a useless lesbian, Catra nodded in agreement and Adora removed her hand from her mouth. They re-joined the stream of students, eventually reaching Adora’s floor. It surprised Catra that a literal princess was rooming in the cheapest halls the university had to offer, slumming it with the other students.

Brushing into Adora’s room, she didn’t know what to expect but somehow, this was exactly the same and vastly different at once. The room itself was immaculate, no dirty clothes spread out anywhere and her desk was organised with an open textbook. Her bed was neatly made, comforter spread over the bottom and a stack of weights at the foot. 

On top of the bed was a huge plush unicorn, its pilled fabric a testament to how long Adora had been snuggling with it. Around her headboard was a string of fairy lights and on the walls were posters of horses of various breeds and a few bands. Wait, was that-

“You have a Metallica poster?” she asked, brows raised into her hairline as the poster seemed out of place in the fluffy room. Adora nodded in agreement and Catra thought that, perhaps, there was more to the perfect princess than everyone knew about. 

Sitting on her desk chair as Adora took the bed, immediately pulling her unicorn into her arms, she waited for the explanation of how a literal princess turned up three doors and one floor down from Catra. 

King Randor and Queen Marlena had raised their children, Adam and Adora, away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi and the masses. As such, they had the benefit of relative anonymity when they wanted to pursue further education. Adora had wanted to get a degree in mathematics, being very good with numbers and Adam had gone somewhere else to learn Sports Medicine. 

Curled up on Adora’s chair, dripping steadily on her carpet, Catra learned more about this bright, lonely soul, who came to university alone. A visit from the royal family would cause chaos and so, she’d had to move into the dormitories without her parents to support her. She’d not really made any friends so far and took her meals alone. She went running every morning as a way to get out of her room and keep fit, but didn’t really have anyone to talk to. 

Catra knew what that was like but, where she wanted to be alone, Adora hadn’t chosen that. Catra decided not to talk to anyone, fearing their stupidity was contagious, but the blonde was isolated involuntarily. How lonely must she have been?

From that point, Catra took Adora with her everywhere, showing her the best bars and restaurants on a budget and generally corrupting her, Catra’s own words. Somewhere along the line, that friendship evolved into romance and somewhere along the line, that relationship was cemented into something more solid. More real. 

And somewhere along the line, Adora stopped setting off the fire alarm. 

Bonus:

“So, why have you been setting the alarm off every morning?”

“Oh, when I get back from my run, I have a bowl of cereal but I like it with warm milk. So, I microwave my milk.”

“So why would that set off the fire alarm?”

“I don’t know! It just keeps happening!”

“Wait, do you warm the milk or the cereal as well?”

“Both.” 

“And what dish do you use?”

“Oh, they’re ones that Adam bought for me! He said they’re really good because they’re disposable so, if I forget to wash them up, I could just get rid of them.”

“Are they made of plastic?”

“Erm, maybe?” 

“You know that melts in the microwave and would cause a fire, right?”

“Is that why the fire alarm’s been going off?”

“Yes, idiot! Didn’t you wonder when you had a molten ball of plastic and cornflakes in the middle of the microwave?” 

“I thought that was because the fire alarm reset something and caused it to heat up wrong.”

“What?” 

…

“You’re the future of this country? How have you survived this long?” 

“Erm, luck? MI5?” 

“Well, it’s certainly not genetics! You can't even human right!” 

“Rude!”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know what you think 
> 
> BYB x


End file.
